


for home to be wherever you lie your head

by celestialism



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, I have taken hefty artistic liberties with any and all things Marvel and shoved them into this work, Loki is mentioned, Loki/Natasha Romanov - Freeform, Natasha is a strong independent woman, You Have Been Warned, also, and is otherwise warning free, he plays an important though small role, it's not a pairing fic, this work contains terrible character references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1714217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialism/pseuds/celestialism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seemed that Natasha was born to spend her life in 'The Red Room'. That is, until she was given a chance at a new life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for home to be wherever you lie your head

_The Red Room_ stood resolute on the corner of Stark Road and a glorified alleyway called Banner Lane.  
High arching windows stared with bright curtained eyes, silhouettes hinting only slightly at the affairs within.  
Every hour or so, the door frames rattled as a train thundered by, with little intention of stopping at the dank platform.  
Natasha leaned on the wall in front of the decrepit building, the remnants of her cigarette glowing orange in the damp air. She exhaled the last of the noxious smoke and crushed it with the toe of her boot. She adjusted her lace bralette and waited with hands settled on her hips.  
This was her life; waiting. Waiting for others. Waiting to leave. Waiting for change.  
She’d been at _The Red Room_ for as long as she could remember, another orphan with nowhere to go with one thing in her favour. When she was old enough, her pretty face was taken full advantage of and she started earning her keep.  
For years it was the same routine: waiting and smiling and striking seductive poses; cooing and purring and watching money travel from one hand to another.  
Groping hands and the stale stench of alcohol and cigar smoke.  
Standing here, in the cold, she could count on her fingers how many proper meals she’d had in her life.  
She remembered the trashy books she’d read and the films she’d snuck into about women who seemed so foreign and mystical to her; women with husbands, women with desk jobs, strong, independent women.  
Natasha remembered something else too.  
Green eyes, high cheekbones and a regal air. She’d seen him on the television, stepping out of expensive cars in tailored suits, arguing about seemingly important things that didn’t interest anyone in _The Red Room_. He was rich, and important and he was the epitome of class and finesse; he was a living scandal, the black sheep of some respected family who owned half the city.  
“Such an exquisite creature,” he’d murmured as he buttoned his silk shirt. He no longer looked so refined, hair mussed and lips swollen. Now he was just another man. “So intelligent.”  
Natasha had watched him with hooded eyes as he draped his scarf around his neck. Her mask in place as she reclined in the dark green satin of the bed sheets.  
He’d leaned forward, fingertips gently brushing aside a crimson curl, and with a voice like velvet he’d breathed “You were born for so much more.” against her cheekbone.  
Natasha’s saccharine smile slid off her face and then he was gone. He’d paid her double.  
Her brain seemed to short-circuit. She couldn’t compute compliments, they were alien. That wasn’t her job. Her job was to please and get paid, and then to pay.  
She had snuck the extra into her room and hidden it in her books. They were safe there; nobody suspected that they would contain any semblance of literal freedom. Hookers didn’t read.

Now Natasha stood, waiting, as usual.  
For what? For whom? Another pair of leering eyes? Another night of pretending to live?  
This wasn’t the way she had dreamed her life to play out. She hadn’t expected much, but she had at least hoped.  She wanted to be like those heroines in her books. She wanted to be like those strong women…  
Now she had her chance. The cash was in her purse. She’d heard it whispering when she had replaced her lighter alongside.

The crisp air bit at Natasha’s skin as she ran.  
No one noticed. One less whore wasn’t anyone’s problem.  
She ran and ran until she reached the railway tracks. They shook with a promise; ancient, rusted rivets calling to her, seemingly beckoning with the idea of what was coming, was freedom.  
Natasha charged onto the platform. She could see the blaring yellow bulb on the front of the slowing freighter.  
Natasha waited.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for an exam.  
> I am not kidding. I literally wrote the majority of this work in under forty-five minutes and received pretty damn good marks for it. All the names and places are as they appeared in my paper.  
> Please, enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcome.
> 
> I don't own anything Marvel related (woe is me). All the characters belong to their rightful owners/creators.  
> Title from Lana Del Ray's 'Ride (Monologue)'.


End file.
